Suitors
by Grignard
Summary: Because in order to find a prince, you have to kiss many frogs. Sara seeks to find the one who truly understands her.
1. Chapter 1

_Another foray into this pleasant little world. For beauty0102, who seems to be the only one reading._

* * *

Too Hard

Sara sits in her comfortable, decorated room, watching the carriages and people pass by her window. The big, dull, brick house next door was no longer a "Select Seminary for Young Ladies." In ten years' time, Miss Minchin had decided that running her establishment under the watchful eye of her former pupil – turned scullery maid – turned rich again - was quite enough. The cruel woman retired and moved away to live in the countryside with a distant relation. Her sister, the friendlier albeit a bit silly, Miss Amelia Minchin had settled down with the milkman, of all people!

And wasn't the concept of settling down the root of Sara's problems?

The girl was quite past the initial stages of "being out." Most females debuted as soon as they exited their school years, and wed a handsome beau within a year or so. The few who did not, either settled with the first man who offered, or grew to be eccentric old maids.

Ermengarde had married a nice man who didn't mind a slow-witted girl like her. The bespectacled woman was already expecting a little one any day now. Lottie was engaged to a foppish gentleman, one who she laughed with a great deal. Sara's dear friend and greatest companion in the dark days, Becky, had found her heart taken with a shopkeeper, and both settled in a house nearby gifted by the Little Princess herself.

When talk had first started about prospects for Sara, her dear Mr. Carrisford waived them off, wanting his "Little Missus" to have a few years of extra childhood to make up for the two lost to her. The time had come and past, and even he began to grow worried at his charge's lack of suitors.

Kind, motherly Mrs. Carmichael had things in hand however.

And so, Sara Crewe waited for her first suitor to arrive.

Lord Percival Smythe descended from his fine carriage, stepping onto London's paved street in shiny, newly blacked boots. He sneered at the non-opulence of the house before him. He had expected the girl to live in the wealthier part of London, not this sub-par neighborhood. He adjusted the exotic flower in his boutonniere. In his hands he carried its sisters grown specifically in his estate's hothouse, an offering for the grand heiress of several diamond mines. She had been the talk of the town after her discovery, but mostly due in part to her fabulous wealth. Yes, Sara Crewe would make him a fine wife.

The young man rapped smartly on the door with his gold tipped cane. As the dwelling's maid opened the door, he swiftly thrust his coat and hat towards the bewildered woman.

"Your mistress, girl! Fetch her now!"

The poor confused girl could only lead him into the front sitting room, where she bolted out of the room in fear.

The man glanced around. The furnishings were just as simple as the exterior of the house. There were some fine rugs and a few paintings or so, but nothing eye catching with wealth. To his disgust, there were items from a savage land spread throughout the room. What kind of proper woman had such images permitted in her home?

The lady in question stepped into the room.

She… was not a beauty, was Percy's first thoughts. The girl was tall for her age, and quite thin. She did not possess the classical traits looked for in women – the pale skin, gold hair, and rosy cheeks. Her eyes were a dull grey-green, and her hair was dark with hardly a curl.

Nevertheless she was rich, that was all that mattered to the nobleman.

Sara curtsied to him, and he gave her a formal bow. As they were seated, and the tea things brought out, he began to engage her with pretty compliments.

"Miss Crewe, you have been the talk of town for quite some time now, but I can see now that you far surpass the rumors they say about you."

Sara's eyes flickered with emotion. When the maid had arrived to her room breathless with worry and anxiety, Sara immediately had misgivings about the man who Mrs. Carmichael had insisted she meet. She knew what he meant about the rumors. Her reclusiveness and extreme wealth provided fuel to the gossip mill that was the London social scene. The girl would not draw conclusions now. She merely observed him with intense eyes, thanking him politely after a moment or two.

Lord Smythe's thoughts shifted further in disappointment. The rich foundling did not speak in the high-pitched voice and twittering giggles used to attract most men his age. Her voice was actually quite low. With surprise, he noticed that she did not have a quick and pleasing retort most women practiced daily in response to his comments on her charms.

"I heard you live close to the museum district, Lord Smythe," Sara queried, remembering the only bit of information that interested her from Mrs. Carmichael's description of the privileged man.

He preened noticeably, "Yes, I inherited my father's estate after his death. It's the largest manor in the richest part of London." This was the part most women were interested about him, and he was glad to elaborate on his property.

The woman noticed the callous way he tossed about the fate of his father, and the fact that he neglected to mention ever setting foot in a museum. The man continued on about the extent of his possessions, enough so that Sara was glad to see someone come in to take away the tea set and dishes.

Unfortunately as the teapot was being picked up, Lord Percy gave an enthusiastic wave with the hand holding his grand cane, knocking the woman to the ground.

"Watch where you step, you fool!" he snarled at the unfortunate victim, irked that the servant girl had gotten in his way.

He gave a glance over to her mistress, expecting her to provide the same rebuke.

Sara gave no such reply, not even a startled scream at the falling of delicate china. She merely stood from her chair calmly.

Percy gave a nervous smile. Perhaps Sara was angry that he had chastised her maid. The lowborn girl was only property. He must be intruding on Sara's territory. After all, when they were married, the house would be her domain; the rest of the world would be his. He was prepared to stand back and watch her lecture her maid into submissiveness, however, her next words stunned him instead.

"I believe, we've taken up enough of each other's time, Lord Smythe." she murmured in that strange low voice of hers, and to his surprise, Sara bent to actually assist her housemaid to her feet!

The lady paid no attention to the lord, instead seating the fallen girl in _her_ actual chair, mindless of the dirt or crumbs the servant girl could have possessed. It was all quite unheard of to the bourgeois man!

He stood when she did as politeness dictated with his mouth agape and mind spinning.

"You cannot be serious!" he exclaimed still struggling to understand. "You do realize why I am here, you silly girl?!"

When she was young, back in the nightmare that was Miss Minchin's Seminary, Sara had pretended to be a princess, keeping her decorum and poise in all of her actions. Now that she was older, and a little more world-wise, Sara had knew how important it was to remain so.

But now was not the time.

Fire flashed in the heiress' eyes, turning the smoky green into bright emeralds. This was no meek, weak-willed girl. Everyone had revered Sara Crewe as an angel, a princess, but few had encountered her strong temper. Percy thought if she had been a man, Sara would have knocked him head over heels to the ground by now.

"You are only here because of the extent of my wealth and perhaps the prospect of a pretty doll for you to parade around town!" Sara bit out whirling to face him. All pretense of being polite company was long gone by now. She took a deep breath.

"Did you know, Lord Smythe, that we've met before?"

From the expression on his face, Sara could judge that he had no idea what she was talking about. He, on the other hand, was positive he would have remembered meeting a wealthy woman such as Sara Crewe.

Her eyes took on a distant look.

"I was much different than how I look now. You, however, are exactly the same. Several years ago, dressed in your fine clothes, you knocked aside a shabby girl dressed in black carrying a basket of heavy groceries."

She looked at him dead in the eye with her flashing eyes. "You didn't even acknowledge me. You were in such a hurry to jump into your grand carriage. I thought time would change you, but you are exactly the same – cold and callous towards anyone not of your social sphere!"

Sara continued on.

"It was an accident why I became who she is. It was an accident why I am still not in her shoes," the angry girl gestured to the resting servant girl. "It is an accident why she is not me! But even so, even before I lost everything, I still knew to treat others kindly, no matter how much money they had or their status in life. You have never learned that." She turned her back to the irate man, "I will not accept any idea of court ship from you. Good day, sir."

The servant girl who had answered the door when he first arrived now appeared behind him with his hat and coat. She was lucky. She had a fine mistress to set an example for her. The girl looked at him steadily, with no fear, merely handing him his belongings without even a curtsey.

With shaking steps he staggered out the door, pondering how he had lost the chance at her riches.

Sara shook her head sadly as she knelt and took the fallen maid's worn hands in her own. The rich lord would never understand why she had dismissed him so coldly. Had it been another servant girl, perhaps Sara would have held a more civil tongue, but it was her dear friend.

Becky, who had played handmaid to Sara when the poor girl was too stupefied from her father's death and change in fortune to do anything at all.

Becky, who Sara asked to support her in evaluating her first suitor.

Becky, who had taken time from her own tasks to play tea maid to a fop.

Becky, who was worth more than all the diamonds in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

_I think this chapter sounds a little too much like a Victorian/Jane Austen romance._

* * *

Too Soft

Lieutenant Thomas Jones was a widower – too old to be considered a young buck by the twittering ladies of town, but still young enough to be considered a good catch by many.

Distinguished was the word that Sara first thought when she saw him.

Mr. Carmichael had interviewed many of Captain Crewe's cohorts in an effort to find his daughter. Jones had been happy when he heard the news of her return, but business affairs had prevented him until now to visit her.

Jones noticed the grand house, much nicer than his modest country estate. He noticed a couple of foreign objects common to a man who had traveled far. After Sara's greeting, he offered his condolences on the loss of his former crewmate. With him he presented to Sara a bouquet of dark red roses, common to his area.

"The captain was a good officer, Miss Crewe," Jones said with gravitas.

The Lieutenant spoke of Captain Crewe with the fondest of memories giving Sara an insight into the man she had only known for the first eleven years of her life. She thanked him sincerely for his sympathy, and even more so for his stories.

He had also known of a personal loss. He had married a good woman, but she had died young, not long after the birth of his son. Jones had missed his wife so much; he had refused to see his son for several years.

Sara was reminded of Lottie's father. The flighty man had shipped her off to Miss Minchin's Seminary without a single glance back, preferring her to be raised by others than by himself. Sara had heard somewhere that he had remarried, preferring to spend the time with his second wife than with his own daughter.

Luckily Lottie had found a wealthy gentleman, not soon after she had left the school. The man was young and fond of buying pretty things for his pretty wife. If they didn't spend much time with each other, well, the two were perfectly suited with that.

"I had completely forgotten about my son for quite some time, until one day I discovered him in my wife's garden. He was playing with his cousin, laughing and running without a care in the world. He was so grown up. It was then I realized how wrong it was for me to have left him."

Sara smiled kindly at the renewed parent – child bond. She had had such a happy childhood with her father; she thought it was wrong for any parent to remain distant from their own flesh and blood.

"I am very happy for you two," she said warmly. "No child should be without a father."

The man took a sip of the expensive tea. He had seen how Captain Crewe had made something for himself, and provided a future for his daughter too. Jones wanted the same for his young son.

There was one of three ways to go about that:

_One_

"After we reconnected, I immediately enrolled my son in the best boarding school in the country. I wanted him to be a barrister, a doctor, or a high ranking soldier. He had to be fluent in German, French, and Latin. He should know the sciences, maths, and arts. I wanted him to learn everything, in order to succeed in life."

Sara pictured back in her schooldays poor Ermengarde's red faced look, struggling as she tried to remember _la mere_ meant "the mother" and _le pere_ meant "the father." Her hot temper rose to think of another parent subjecting his child to unreasonable expectations.

The lieutenant took note of Sara's displeased reaction. "I know. I know. It was wrong of me. The headmaster wrote to me a stern letter one day chastising me for placing my son under such stress. The poor boy was refusing to eat or sleep until he had memorized his lessons perfectly."

If Miss Minchin had one iota of compassion in her cold, hard heart, she would have wrote to Ermie's father for the same exact reason. But no, the woman only cared about money and how her accounts looked at the end of the day, Sara thought with distaste.

"I took him home the very next day, explaining he could do whatever he wanted in life, as long…" Here the man gave a rare smile, "… as he received a _basic_ education."

Sara smiled warming up to the man. Though he was a practical man through and through, he loved his child unconditionally. Something nagged at the back of her mind, something that seemed so familiar to her.

_Two_

"Next I thought why was I placing the entire burden on my son? I should be able to provide for him. It is the right and duty of every father to support his children and to give them a solid financial foundation. He should have a trust fund with an ample amount of money for him to use – if not throughout his life then at least at the start of it. The only problem was that I had not saved a single coin in his name."

There was an old saying, "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride." All of the lieutenant's wishes and supposes could only take him so far. A man had to take charge of his dreams.

"I have a cousin who has a plantation in the West Indies. He talks of some investment opportunities that seem very promising if I lend him some seed money. It is a risky prospect, but it'll net me a pretty penny in no time." The man's eyes lit up at the opportunity of that much money made from one gamble.

"The facts and figures of it, however, are another story." He gave a chagrined look. "I can run my own household." Seeing her sparkling green eyes gave him pause, "Well, I organized my household to be run efficiently by others. Surely, I can make decisions on a couple of business transactions. All I need is some solemn, good advice."

Sara was at first laughing at his honesty, but his last words made the laughter catch in her throat.

_It couldn't be…it was impossible!_

"No!"

Her shout rang out clearly in the quiet room, with extreme agitation shown on her face.

"Madam! Miss Crewe!" the man stood in alarm. Oh! He had made a terrible blunder. "Please calm yourself. I shouldn't be discussing business with polite company such as yourself. I've always gone to others, male or female, for advice on financial matters, but if you do not wish to hear it, I'll cease immediately."

Sara waved off his concern with a delicate hand. At least Lieutenant Jones treated the opposite gender with more courtesy that her first suitor, but her distress was not due to the reasons he thought it to be.

"Please sir! It's not that. This entire time something felt familiar about you, and now I know why. Those were the exact same words my father said in his last letter to me, just before he passed away from brain fever. He had taken a great financial risk in procuring some diamond mines, all to provide for me."

"I…I didn't know," the astonished man uttered. He had expected Captain Crewe to have died in the line of duty, not for something as silly as money. The father had provided for his daughter, yes, but at the cost of his life.

Sara wanted to reassure him, "I'm not saying anything will happen to you, but my father had no head for numbers, and he probably should have never taken the risk in the first place. We didn't need the money." She raised tear filled eyes at her audience. "I would trade every single one of the diamonds I have now in order to get my father back."

Jones caught his breath. Did he truly need the money? Was he acting foolishly as Captain Crewe did? A lot of time had been spent merely talking about the terms of the contract. Was this a brief taste of more to come? He was honestly not looking forward to any of it.

"Lieutenant Jones, take the name of my solicitor, Mr. Carmichael. He has a great deal of experience managing my money and any risky ventures that come up. I wish… I wish he would have been there for my father."

Reseating himself, he nodded cordially. "I am most grateful, Miss Crewe. Again, forgive me for causing your distress." He could still take on the proposal without any of the headaches (literally and figuratively), and his son would not be in any danger of sharing Sara Crewe's fate.

But speaking of proposals…

_Three_

Sara had calmed down sufficiently after a few sips of her tea. She still remembered the wonderful first taste from the cup she had with Becky the day the Magic had come true, and the soothing liquid continued to be a balm to her worries.

The man took note of the woman seated across from him. She was not unattractive with her lithe figure and expressive eyes. He greatly admired her more for her calm manner and sage advice. Sara would make a good officer's wife. She was familiar with the roles of an enlisted man, and would keep a stiff upper lip whenever he had to leave to perform his duties. It was evident she was good with children too. If he brought Sara home, surely his son would not think of her as an evil stepmother like in fairy tales!

The woman, however, read the man's intentions before he could voice them.

"It would seem, sir, that you must get your house in order before you can pursue other goals."

Jones accepted Miss Crewe's subtle remark with grace. After all, he had told her of his lack of attention, then smothering of his son, and his tenuous financial situation. Any woman, wealthy or not, would not want to take over the chaotic affairs of an unorganized household especially for her first marriage.

After receiving her solicitor's information, he thanked Sara graciously for her time. Though the girl was young, the look in her eyes was world weary. He was sad to think that he benefited from her troubles.

Sara watched him go in a paid taxi with a lighter heart. If she had to suffer, at least others could be helped.

Her dearest friend set a warm bun beside her, and taking the liberty only granted to her, sat beside Sara at the fine table. As she nibbled on the treat, Sara mused that she always wanted to help others – not just by tutoring her schoolmates Lottie and Ermengrade, not just by rescuing her fellow scullery maid, and not just caring for one father and his son.

The bun…oh the bun! Thank goodness for Becky!

Sara had managed to help a whole district of starving people using the baker woman and Anne. Surely she could find a way to make other people's dreams and her own come true.

* * *

_Where Jones mentioned finding his son in the garden was a reference to Burnett's Secret Garden. The opening scene and Sara's thoughts of him being distinguished was inspired by Austen's Sense and Sensibility. _

_One last chapter after this one._


	3. Chapter 3

Just Right

Many suitors came to visit Sara over the weeks. Some were short which was comical next to her above average height. Others were tall, their hats brushing against the doorframe. There was one fat, jolly man as stout and rosy as Mr. Carmichael who made several amusing jokes. A man as skinny as a scarecrow visited and was just as boring and dour. Men came with fortunes and titles, but none appealed to the girl. Some were cruel like Lord Smythe, belittling those not worth his notice. Others were naïve like Lieutenant Jones, seeking her company without truly understanding her.

Sara had taken comfort from a journey she had taken many times after she had been found. A bookstore within walking distance was stocked frequently and with the rarest of tomes, allowing her a brief respite from her troubles. The bookseller knew her by her many trips and great number of purchases.

The girl briefly considered that the money from her diamond mines was more than enough to leave her with a comfortable life in solitude. There were many who did not have the option, yet seeing the happiness of Ermengarde, Lottie, and Becky, made her quite jealous with envy. Even Marie Antoinette had a few good years of happy marriage with Louis XVI before it all went wrong in the French Revolution. Why couldn't she have the same luck? Of course she meant the happy marriage part and not the execution by guillotine.

She was so amused by that statement that she was quite alarmed to see that Becky was nowhere in sight! As her personal attendant, and even more so because of their close friendship, Sara was always concerned to her whereabouts. She still felt deeply over Lord Smythe's callous treatment of her dear friend. No one deserved to be demeaned by a fool.

Sara rounded the aisle of bookshelves when she spied Becky with an armful of books. Many were Sara's, but a slim volume of two was Becky's own, as the girl sought to improve her education. The heiress was about to approach her servant when a young man jarred Becky's elbow resulting in her wares being scattered across the store's floor.

"Oh! I beg your pardon!"

A young man with brown locks and a kind smile bowed courteously to his victim. With a kind air, he bent to assist Becky with her fallen books.

"My mother always told me I was all elbows and knees."

Becky gave a warm laugh, a more common occurrence now that she had a more comfortable lifestyle than in the left-hand side of the attic.

"It's alright, sir. No harm done."

He handed her the last book. "Oh! Do you speak French?"

The young man said it so nonchalantly, with no conceivable notion of a girl of her station having or lacking the ability to speak such a difficult language.

"Oh no, sir," Becky said with a blush. "I'm still practicing my reading. This is Miss Sara's."

With that introduction, her mistress made her presence known. The young woman gave her friend a thorough look. "Are you alright, Becky?"

No matter who Sara was talking to, even if it was the queen herself, Becky would always come first in her eyes.

"Yes, Sara," the smiling servant answered.

The dark haired girl had refused any attempts for Becky to call her Miss Sara after their ordeal at Minchin's Seminary. In her eyes, they were equal.

"Besides," Becky gave Sara an aside glance, "I've received harder knocks before."

And Sara agreed.

The cook, when in a vindictive mood (which was often), had a great, meaty hand. The tyrant loved to take her troubles out on the two scullery maids.

The pair made their purchases, and the young man insisted on walking them home.

"You see, I live in the building next to yours," he said shyly.

"Oh! Just on the other side of the wall!" Sara replied with a laugh and a secret smile.

The old seminary was currently being used as a hostel, what with its many rooms and facilities.

"I share with another tenant. It's all I can afford with a tutor's salary," the man said with a shrug of his shoulders.

They made their way down the bustling streets. For a moment the girls lost sight of their companion, only to spot him exchanging a coin for common daisies a flower seller was hawking. Sara could see the threadbare condition of the seller's dress and made a mental note of it. To her surprise the man reappeared, presenting her and Becky with the flowers with a quaint bow.

"I see her time and again. She's trying to raise money for her son's education. I give her what I can some days."

The trio continued on. Their new friend was intrigued on why a grand lady such as Sara did not travel in a fine carriage.

"On hindsight," Sara said with a soft laugh, "I probably should have with all of the books I tend to buy." She gestured to the tomes gathered in their hands. "But growing up in the warm Indian sun, I don't care one bit about brown, coarse skin. It feels as if I spent a lifetime away from it, so I won't cover up just because society prefers lily white hands and faces.

The man's eyes brightened at the thought of such an exotic country and peppered his companions with many questions.

"I've read many stories about that far-away place, and I've always wanted to teach there." There was something noble about introducing his native tongue and motherland to the locals, and in turn, learning much about their culture and tales as he could from them.

Sara was surprised to hear his enthusiasm for the land of her birth. Most, like Becky, had reacted as if she had been raised by savage heathens. She had never considered teaching there either. "My father and I had happy memories there before he died."

"You speak so fondly of him. He sounded like a loving father."

The girl felt her heart skip a beat. In all the years after his death, no one had ever thought of him as a father. Miss Minchin had only considered him as the man who paid her bills. Carrisford had referred to him as an old school friend and business partner, Jones as a fellow officer, and Smyth had disregarded him as the source of her newfound fortune.

No one thought of Captain Ralph Crewe as Sara remembered him, a loving and caring father, except for the man before her now.

The trio approached the doorway of her fine home. Becky, with a nod and a smirk, took the books inside, conveniently leaving the pair alone.

All of the other suitors had been introduced to her by a third party – Mrs. Carmichael, Mr. Carmichael, Uncle Tom, they all made their best efforts to choose the right man for her. Perhaps it was time for Sara to take her future in her own hands.

Sara smiled warmly at her companion, "Would you like to join me for tea?"

The young man blushed, but said with conviction, "I'd love to."

* * *

_Again, another story I was encouraged to right by reading A Little Princess, the first novel I read as a child. All ideas and characters belong to Frances Hodgson Burnett._

_Thanks for reading. Please review._

_Grignard_


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